


The third one is a charm

by Enigel



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2004-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Laylah in the Poly Ficathon 2004. Many thanks to Fabu for the beta and for organising the whole thing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The third one is a charm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Laylah in the Poly Ficathon 2004. Many thanks to Fabu for the beta and for organising the whole thing.

_Prologue_

"Miss Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth!"

"Yes, Estrella?"

"The cook wants to know, do you wish orange or apple confiture to be served at dessert?"

Elizabeth pondered for a moment, brow furrowed in mock concentration.

"You mean I have to choose?"

The maid looked puzzled for an instant, until Elizabeth smiled:

"Tell him I wish to have both," she said.

* * *

James Norrington was going to dine at the Turner's today, just like the Friday before, and two Fridays before that too. The string of days was harder to trace to the beginning now, and he realised there had been more than he could account for.

He recalled the first time they'd invited him - it had been Elizabeth who spoke, her proud brow held high, her eyes shy and unsure, and he couldn't bring himself to refuse her. Weather and the price of cereals had salvaged the conversation at first, brave Englishmen that they all were, and then they'd talked about their respective occupations. Will seemed to always have a story from the forge - his forge now - that the colourful and talkative customers left in passing.

* * *

"So I told him 'Well then, sir, I think you should have the donkey arrested; I'm sure the judge will have no difficulty in discerning who was the real ass in this affair.'"

Elizabeth, who had heard the story before, giggled and patted Will's hand. Norrington laughed and shook his head.

"Indeed, I don't believe people sometimes."

A guilty expression passed over Will's face.

"Oh, my apologies for the language, Commodore."

James smiled.

"The mark of a good story-teller is staying true to the story. Besides, Mr. Turner, I am a sailor, I work among sailors. If my ears were so sensible, they would have undoubtedly fallen off by now. You should hear Admiral Huntington after he's had a few drinks."

He considered it for a moment.

"Although it is better if you don't. We'd like civilians to preserve a sense of mystery about us; it helps respecting the uniform."

"Oh, but you are very good at preserving a sense of mystery about yourself," said Elizabeth playfully.

Will's words came almost in the same time with hers.

"It's not just the uniform we respect about you, Commodore. You're a good man, a good friend. Sometimes it's... it's easier to see this in a stranger than in those who are closer to us," he continued. "I wish I would have seen this earlier."

Elizabeth, always the bolder, picked up the thread.

"What Will and I want to say is... we enjoy and treasure your company. I know people find this kind of subject unfit for sociable discussions, but I see no reason why we should not say these things openly. We would like to be honoured with your friendship from now on... James."

Their eyes spoke of honesty, and James understood it was not for mere social convenience that they were doing this, and it warmed his heart, though he didn't want to admit it to himself.

* * *

Then the talk had drifted to propriety and raising and while it was still not the safest of topics, it had led to memories and books and legends, and he had stopped looking at the clock every five minutes.

When he had stood to leave and she had extended the invitation for the following week, it came as a natural conclusion to an agreeable evening.

Every week he thought it would be the last, before he admitted it was now a habit, and he would have been more surprised if there were an end to it.

Today was no different; he wondered what made him remember that day in this particular occasion; as he waited for the maid to open the door, he cast a look to the sky; for the last two days the clouds had been hanging low and heavy over the town, and the air felt hot and dry; the land was pleading for the skies to open.

Elizabeth herself stood in the door frame, smiling.

"I let the servants go for this afternoon. Come in, James."

As he followed her into the house, he felt a strange thrill of anticipation in his chest; an effect of the close air before the storm, no doubt. He'll have to leave early, most likely, if he didn't want to be caught in the rain.

* * *

At some point in the afternoon they moved into another room, with a better view to the shore and the magnificent celestial landscape that unravels sometime before a storm.

This room had a sofa and armchairs, and they weren't looking at the outside view at all; they were facing him, and through the breach in the clouds he could see the last glimpses of the sunlight; the thick orange light made an odd contrast to the grey cloak of the sky around it, it was almost as if the air was denser in that colour. That light also meant it was getting late, and he should be going, but he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the conversation; he was waiting for a pause, and the pause never seemed to come. It was like they weaved a web around him, a web he had no wish to desert.

Will was holding Elizabeth's arm, and they were still talking.

"What was the fuss around that merchant vessel, James? I heard they carried a secret and dangerous load, protected by a curse."

James laughed dismissively.

"You know how rumours are. They tried to avoid paying taxes, that was all the secrecy. It was only rum, and a few crates of chocolate as a cover." He paused for effect. "You may want to know that chocolate is an Aztec invention," he said and hid his smile behind the glass of wine.

"Oh, you had to say it. I don't want to hear about Aztecs, they've have never brought any good here," said Elizabeth and pretended to shudder in fear.

"It hasn't been all bad," said Will and took her hand in his.

"No, not all," she smiled and looked at him lovingly.

Will leaned to kiss Elizabeth and James found himself staring, entranced, wondering how her lips tasted, then his thoughts took one more step farther and he was wondering how she _felt_, what was in those lips that made her close her eyes for a split second, and he was still staring when realisation sank in - he shouldn't be seeing this, and maybe it was past time he left.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Thunder rolled very close, then the rain started falling.

"You can't leave now," she said, and her voice sounded glad and just that tad mischievous.

There had been small talk and light hearted banter, there had been the clicking of glasses and the warm light reflected in the silverware; there had been the wind and the whisper of the sea, and now suddenly there was something else, a lingering look, an enticing smile, a hushed voice and a fuzzy feeling in his chest. Suddenly everything was laden with innuendo, the pink tongue licking warm lips almost a challenge, and the sea and the rain were chanting a wild song in his blood.

The fading light painted strange interconnected lines reaching from them to where he sat, perched upon the edge of his chair, ready to jump and bolt for the door.

Instead, he stood slowly and prepared to leave, maybe this was all a dream and if he ran fast enough he'd leave its memory behind him before it could fully form; he knew he didn't stand a chance when Elizabeth advanced towards him, the soft rustle of her dress a symphony of temptation in itself.

It was past time he could have left. But when had he feared a rising tide anyway?

Then Will stood too, and placed a hand on his arm, and said "Stay". That single, simple word was so much more than that - it was the tone in which it was said, a tone that stood for 'Please, James, stay' and 'Stay with _us_'; it was the spark in Will's eyes as he looked up into James's surprised figure, a spark that spoke of changes and options, of fulfilled and future promises. Elizabeth didn't need words to say the same things.

The sound of his breath seemed to thunder in the small room, but it was only his heart that raced, his heart that savagely rushed blood into his veins, deafening him to anything else but what his senses were whispering, and they were telling of wild and unthought of things; but where thoughts were shying away, his feet knew more about what he wanted to do, because they weren't carrying him away.

He felt Elizabeth's lips upon his, and Will's arms around him, and the diffuse feel of anticipation that had been buzzing in his head all day resolved into a sharp, blinding bliss.


End file.
